Murder Never Sleeps
by Rivers of Angelic Roses
Summary: Homicide detective, Michelle Demming is on the case of a mysterious murder. The case itself is eccentric, and its only leading her in circles. But, is it possible for a fifteen year old boy to murder someone...? ADOPTED!
1. Chapter 1

The brisk cold air of a morning in New York hit the young detective's lungs. It was New York, in the middle of a frosty winter, what could you have expected when you walked out the door? She wrapped her jacket around her thin form tightly before heading down the sidewalk. It was a normal day, so far. Murder scenes in the early sunrise.

The economic drop or the fact that everybody was out of money these days was a likely cause. Though, the detective could wonder, why was she always dragged out so early? Sure, she clearly wasn't a morning person, due to the fact that she had stubbed her toe in the morning when walking blindly. It was now a morning routine for her. Though, it was still a pain to walk around without a thicker jacket.

Michelle Demming was not a person of interest. Not to the naked eye anyhow. She wasn't the typical type of designer by day and cop by night; her life style was more complex and elaborate than that. Being a cop and a fashion designer was not the easiest of lifestyles, but she owned the family company after her aunt passed away.

She didn't need to wake up any earlier than she wanted, not if she wasn't a cop. Michelle had a sketchy past, and that was the fact that made her New York's most famous detective. She didn't need anymore attention since she was a fashion designer, and it made her life less oblivious than it already was.

Michelle stopped by an old coffee shop that she went to daily. Either it was the taste of the coffee, or maybe it was the fact that it was only a walk away from her apartment, she visited everyday. She quickly ordered a simple latte with whip cream. Her mother had always called her a food junkie, and unfortunately it was true.

She peeled back the cheap plastic lid and found that she hadn't yanked the lid back far enough, so half of the lid was still attached to the cup. With skilled hands, she tipped the cup so she could drink the warm caffeine filled beverage while walking briskly. Unfortunately, she hadn't thought ahead if she were to bump into someone this early in the morning due to the fact that she was sleep deprived. Michelle could now blame the murderer for making her spill fresh hot coffee all over her white shirt, and murder someone at three in the morning.

"I-I'm sorry ma'am! I didn't see you there." The young man said while stuttering. She looked up at his face tiredly. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked at her fearfully.

"It's okay. I wasn't thinking straight, since I'm so tired." She gave a reassuring, yet tired smile. He brightened up a bit.

"Once again, I'm sorry. My name's Kain Fuery. I work for the ah-" He didn't complete his sentence. "Sorry, I can't say who I work for. Unless your part of the government." Michelle gave another forced smile and flashed out her police badge.

"Is being a police officer enough for you, Mr. Fuery?" He gave a big grin. "I'm pretty sure I've heard of you before. Don't you work with Roy Mustang and Edward Elric? Those two in the military?"

Instantly, his face became...duller. "Yeah. That's who I work with." He said blandly. Michelle looked at him intently, her cerulean eyes meeting Fuery's dark ones.

"Well. I think it's respectful to be working for the military, Sergeant Fuery." Michelle said kindly. "Is something wrong?" Fuery pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"No. It's nothing, I suppose." Fuery was suddenly focusing on his shoes very intently. "How did you know I was a sergeant, anyway?" Michelle could feel that Fuery was hiding something important, maybe not to her, but it was surely something. It was clear, because he was changing the subject.

"Fuery, you seem like a kind man. Maybe we should meet again sometime?" She asked. His eyes shot up from the ground. "And I know, because your badge is showing."

"Oh, I should fix that." He pulled his jacket around himself tightly. "R-Really? You mean it? About us meeting again?" He asked. She gave him another reassuring smile.

"I meant what I said, and I said what I meant. This girl here, is faithful one-hundred percent." Michelle took out a white paper card with purple writing on it. "See you again? Call me after seven." She winked and walked off, her shoes clicking against the snow covered pavement. Fuery stared at the card and sincerely felt happy that he finally had a friend outside the military.

AT THE CRIME SCENE

Shoes once again clicking against the cold pavement, Michelle Demming arrived at the crime scene, only she was fifteen minutes late. Her white crisp shirt having a heavy brown stain on its front. The medical examiner was still inspecting the body, checking over for bruises and scars. Two other detectives stood near a park bench, talking in hushed voices. Like always, everyone was busy, double checking their facts, and scanning the area.

"Morning, detectives." She said cheerfully despite the happy mood spiraling in a downward motion. The two detectives looked at Michelle, forgetting their original conversation.

"Morning, Detective Demming." They said simultaneously, then glancing at each other before looking back at the famous detective.

"I'd go get you a warm coffee, only if you weren't already dressed in yours." Detective Greg Jackson said all the while smiling innocently. Michelle punched him in the arm playfully.

"What do you got for me, Montrose?" Michelle asked. The said detective pulled out a small notepad and began reading the notes over.

"Australian male, around thirty to forty-five, found right here in the park." He said. "Fleur will tell you the rest from there." Michelle walked closer to inspect the body and crime scene.

"Cause of death?" She asked seriously.

"Blunt force trauma to the head. All I can say, that this case will be weird, Michelle." The ME said suspiciously.

"Huh? What do you mean?" She asked, clueless to what she had said. Finally taking in the view of the crime scene without being exhausted, there were scorch marks scattered on the ground, as if they were caused by lighting. "Oh. I see."

"If that wasn't weird enough, he's got these weird tattoos on his hands." The ME lifted the victim's hand, showing some odd cult-like designs plastered on them. The detective nodded and placed a hand to her chin, contemplating a motive and reason. Suddenly noticing the small military tag stitched onto the man's shirt, she furrowed her brow in confusion. Dismissing it, Michelle walked away and went back to Jackson.

"Let's head back to the precinct on twelfth and set up a murder board. Maybe I can bring in a friend who works for the military to help out." Michelle said while winking. They clambered into a random vehicle and began their departure for the Twelfth Precinct.

AT THE TWELFTH PRECINCT

Everyone shuffled files of paperwork and were busy hustling around the normally busy precinct. It wasn't a coincidence that those odd marks were there. Michelle yanked out her cell phone and dialed the military office. On three rings, a man answered the phone.

"Hello. May I speak to Kain Fuery? Immediately, this is Detective Michelle Demming." She said briskly. The man went silent for moment, and she heard a beep.

"Hello? Who is this?" A somewhat familiar voice asked.

"It's that girl you bumped into this morning. Could you come down to the Twelfth Precinct? I got a few questions for you." She heard Fuery speaking to his commanding officer, and then returning to the phone.

"Sure, ah-what's your name? I'm sorry I didn't ask before." Michelle could almost imagine the shy young man rubbing the back of his head with the receiver clutched tightly in his pale hands.

"It's Michelle Demming. Come down soon, okay?" The detective felt like she was talking to a small child, though then again, Fuery looked about the same age or slightly younger than her, so it didn't make much of a difference.

"Yeah, I'll have to bring another pal of mine. Is that okay?" He asked doubtfully. Michelle laughed lightly at his nervousness.

"It's fine, just come down soon. This is for a case I'm working on." She said a quick goodbye and hung up. Michael Montrose and Jackson came into the room with wide smirks plastered on their faces.

"Who was that, _detective_?" Montrose asked mischievously, his eyebrows moving up and down suggestively. Jackson snickered and punched Montrose playfully in the forearm.

"Yeah, Demming. Was that your boyfriend? We'd _sure _like to meet him." Jackson asked, barely holding in his laughter. Michelle laughed sarcastically.

"Ha-ha. Very funny. Now, you two boys _run along _now, Mommy has some work to do." Michelle retorted. They both pouted and stomped away dramatically. Michelle smirked and continued her paperwork. Captain Ericson walked over to Michelle's desk.

"Why in the name of god, would you call the military?" He asked sternly.

"Our victim, he's part of the military. Plus, I know a guy, and I thought he could help us out." The captain nodded briskly and went back to his office. The daily life of a cop was not very charming. Paperwork day and night, heading out to catch criminals, and the worst of all, having to talk to the victim's family. If they even had any to consider.

Michelle heard the creak of the door, and two pairs of heavy boots stomping against the precinct floors. Her head shot up from her desk as she heard the heavy steps coming closer. Letting out a sigh of relief when she saw Fuery, she put her pen down on the desk and took a sip of her coffee. Fuery was giving a small smile as he walked through the offices.

"Hello, Fuery. Glad you could come. Who's the kid behind you?" The 'kid' was wearing a heavy hood, looking down at the floor. When referred to as kid by Demming, he noticeably flinched.

"Oh, this is Edward Elric. He works with me on my team along with Roy Mustang." He nudged the boy next to him. In a hushed whisper, Fuery said, "Ed, say hi. Gosh, you're not yourself today." Edward's head came up slowly, though the heavy hood only allowed the visible sight of his gleaming yellow eyes that were...unnatural. It made shivers go up the detective's spine.

"Hey." He said shortly. She smiled widely.

"Hello, Edward. Nice to meet you. I've heard quite a bit about you from the tabloids." Michelle said kindly. Edward's response was a cold stare, completely void of emotion. It scared the detective, because the way that boy was acting, was guilty. It didn't make sense, but as a job requirement, everyone looked like a murderer to her. The psychology of a guilty person or crime was simple, it looked like an accident. This victim's murder, it wasn't a mere accident. That much was for sure, and until she could get a name on the victim, everything would be kept in the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was shining brightly over the tall buildings of New York. Jayson Pierce was walking swiftly through the streets with one hand on a dog leash, keeping a husky golden retriever in check from scrambling all over the place. The grime covered streets were filled with a heavy load of litter, and Central Park was as clean as it ever could get. Which was as bad as a dumpster. If that weren't enough, the retriever started barking and pelted into a pile of leaves.

"Goldie! What the hell are you doing?" Pierce shouted before suddenly noticing a dark substance oozing underneath him. It was a dark red, with a sleek shine that could make just about anyone vomit. Jayson was terrified, and the situation became even worse when he looked up in the branches where the blood was seeping from a mutilated dead body. All he could do was scream.

AT THE TWELFTH PRECINCT

The call came in, with a terrified man sounding as if he had just screamed his lungs out. Montrose grabbed the phone just as it rang. In a busy precinct like this, it wasn't hard to expect calls so early in the morning. Murder was at the top of the calling list, especially after the economic collapse. It only got worse over time.

"Hello, this is 911, what's your emergency?" Montrose asked politely, keeping as calm as possible. In that second before someone speaks, you never want to hear the simple word, 'murder'.

"I have to report a murder." The man said while hyperventilating. "In Central Park." Montrose grabbed a pen and notepad and began to write down the details.

"We'll be down there soon. Stay calm." He hung up and tapped Jackson lightly on the shoulder, awaking the sleep deprived detective. "Yo, Jackson, there's a murder down in Central Park. You comin'?" Jackson rubbed his bleary eyes and responded with a groan.

"That's a yes, Montrose. Let's go, and get a coffee while we're at it." Jackson replied with a loud yawn.

"Why are you always so tired?" Montrose asked, trying to start up small talk.

"Why are you always awake?" Jackson retorted sleepily.

"Would a slap across your face wake you up, sunshine? Because we got a murder." He replied promptly. Jackson stifled another yawn as they got into the car and shook his head harshly, his neck making three popping noises in response.

"Damn it. So much for my warm signature honey milk with Hayley tonight." Jackson muttered, but it did not escape Montrose's ears. "Did I just say that out loud?" Montrose nodded. He placed a hot plastic coffee mug in his partner's cold hands. Then he snickered at Jackson who was fumbling to hold his coffee cup properly.

"Honey milk? Really?" Montrose asked. "Only if Demming was here to hear the story." Jackson glared at his partner with intensity. Instead of taunting him again, Montrose simply kept his eyes on the road.

"It helps her sleep." He defended, but it was a cry on deaf ears. Smirking to himself, Montrose suddenly stopped the car at a screeching halt, reaching their destination. Jackson's head had rammed itself against the dashboard, and coffee was spilled all over his shirt. There was a big purple bruise on his forehead.

"Right, come on now, Honeymilk. Can't keep that dead body waiting." Jackson had a glare that swore revenge on his partner. What comes around, goes around. They stepped out of the car and breathed in fresh air.

"Damn you, Montrose!" Jackson yelled dramatically, while Montrose trudged through the leaves, snickering harshly. Jayson Pierce was trembling, his dog sitting next to him. There was blood coating the back of his shirt.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?" The detectives asked simultaneously, then once again glared at each other, and turned back to the witness.

"I-I was walking G-Goldie, and then all of a sudden she runs head on into a tree. Next thing I know, there's a dead dude looking at me with cold eyes." He stuttered lightly, Jackson writing all of the details down carefully. Goldie was whining, and if Jackson could've sworn anything, the poor mutt stared at the body and back at her owner, growling slightly.

"Right, thanks for the info. We'll go get some backup." Montrose said. Jackson nudged Montrose slightly as they were walking off.

"I think the dog might have something to do with this case." Jackson said. In a nearby apartment complex, a shadowy figure was watching, waiting for a perfect moment to strike, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight for a moment, before disappearing. Unfortunately, our dynamite duo did not see the mysterious person lurking underneath the radar.

AT DEMMING'S APARTMENT

"I hope there isn't a case today," Demming muttered as she picked up her phone, silencing its shrill ringing. "Hello?" There was an eerie silence, followed by harsh breathing. A voice of a young man came on, and he was grinning manically all the while through his words.

"Hello, Detective Demming." He sneered. "Would you like to know something?" She paused, finding some familiarity in the voice. Not much, but it was quite close.

"Yes. I would." She replied. "I'd like to know why the hell you called me so early?" Demming said hotly. The person on the other end cackled.

"You are quite the charmer," The detective heard a somewhat familiar click. "Too bad you won't be able to save your friends." There was a loud yell.

"No! Don't listen to him, Michelle! He's crazy!" The voice of Fuery said. "Let us die! He's too insane!" There was a gunfire.

"Hey, pipsqueak, ready to die?" The voice laughed, another gun clicking slowly.

Edward's voice rang through Demming's tired ears. "Who are you calling a pipsqueak, you smug bastard? I'm still growing you backwater piece of crap!" He yelled. "Get the hell away from me, freak! I don't need to die!" Multiple gunshots were heard in the background.

"So sorry, Detective. I guess I win this time." He laughed insanely and hung up the phone, leaving two near death men on the ground. Demming was breathing harshly, scared for her friends, and two possible witnesses to a murder. They might've been killed, or by a small chance, they might still be alive, but barely. The phone buzzed and there was a text, giving a location to a building that Demming knew well. Fumbling to dial the numbers, Demming jumped off the bed, calling her other partners while grabbing a random shirt and pair of decent pants.

"Hello? Demming?" Jackson asked. "Wait, you gotta hear this story-" Jackson was cut off by Michelle.

"You two need to get here now! There are two people that might've just been murdered, and I think I know where they might be!" She hung up and rushed out the door, grabbing her keys. By the time she reached the bottom floor, the other two detectives were already at her house.

"What the hell is this about, Demming?" Montrose asked.

"Two people might've been seriously injured. Get us to 554 Saint Helens St. in Brooklyn, now!" She commanded, the car was speeding. Luckily, Demming lived quite close to the area, and they barged into the building. "It's apartment 4B on the fifth floor!" They rushed up the stairs, buying time instead of waiting for the elevator.

_'I just hope that they're okay.' _Demming thought.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

_To my fans who have long awaited! Chapter two! I'm sorry for the delay! I had a huge test, then some projects, my birthday, my baby cousin's birthday, a funeral for my great-grandma on my birthday, all that stuff. To sum it up, I was busy. Sorry about the writing, I was confused on what to do with Ed. (That sounded so wrong.) _

I CLEARLY DO NOT OWN FMA OR ANY OF THAT STUFF! OTHERWISE WOULD I BE SAYING THIS? HELL NO!


	3. Better Days

**Fellow Readers: **

I feel a little bad for doing this, because now I feel like a hypocrite. Seriously. Okay, well my stories are gonna have a vote. Which one should I update most, and what should I do for other stories. Okay, the first vote is going to be for the stories, which should I update first? I'm going to put it on my profile and let you guys post your votes on the reviews too. Okay, so the stories are:

1. When the Frost Thaws

2. When it Comes to Slaughter

3. When You're Someone Else

4. Murder Never Sleeps

5. A Chilling Threat

Upon listing out my stories, I happened to notice that most of my stories start with 'when'. I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing. And I actually had a plot for another story, but since I'm running on excess energy and on the late hours, I completely forgot what that plot was. And it was a pretty good plot, I remember that much. *sigh* I am a useless person today. Seriously.


	4. Right on Time

Hey, everyone! I've made a decision, and I hope that you enjoy my choices. If noyt, feel free to PM me about this. Though, it'd be a waste of energy, because I won't read it, and I'll just delete it like any other message that's practically useless and something that I don't want to read. Yeah, I'm evil. Don't blame me, it comes with the job. Okay, here's the order in which everything will be updated _weekly_.

1. When You're Someone Else

2. When the Frost Thaws

3. When it Comes to Slaughter

4. A Chilling Threat

5. Murder Never Sleeps

Right. If you didn't notice, they're practically lined up the same as when I listed them. In reality, there wasn't a real good point in this vote, I just put it to see how many of you were actually paying attention to my updates and to get my story schedule down. Thanks for participating, I'll be sure to never swindle you guys like that again. And for those who read my stories, and didn't even vote, get out of here, you're wasting my skills and a bunch of internet space.

Oh, and noted to my actual reviewers who are good and awesome! Cheers to you. I was going to update the first story, but then something weird happened. I'm at my cousin's house, and I am awkwardly shy about people reading what I write. I don't know why, but I am, and her internet is supremely slow and the 'guest' computer is like a dinosaur. That meant that it's really old, and won't even go to standby mode.

So, I wrote the next chapter, and it was awesome! I mean, best work by far, and unfortunately thanks to my cousin's dino-comp, it got erased before I had a chance to save it. I feel really angry, and that's not helping me, because I am super annoyed at my friend, and I have no clue why. He's suddenly really aggravating and makes everything seem annoying about him. He even said that 'stories don't matter' to me! Do you know how much stories matter to me? They're my life! I'm a junior writer, and he definitely said the wrong thing.

Plus my other best friend is going to Austrailia next week. He's my crush, just like in Phineas and Ferb. He's not completely hopeless, because I think he knows I like him, but we keep it all the same. Maybe that's why I'm so angry? I mean, being separated from your best friends is a bit sad.

Also, sorry about this terribly long update. I'll get the next chapter up soon, I promise. And hopefully, by then, I'll figure out what's wrong with my brain. Oh, and I am also going to be posting another story soon. Not a one-shot. It's a Phineas and Ferb story, in which poor Phineas has been turned into a vampire! I really need to get off the whole vampire subject, I mean seriously. That's not too normal for a twelve year old girl. Then again, I am a writer, so I suppose being a tad bit odd is part of the job. Yes,.I am really twelve. I lie on my profile because it's safety protocol for my family.


	5. Adoption Anyone?

NOTICE: THE FOLLOWING IS NOT A DRILL OR WHATEVER, IT'S TRUE. READ IT.

So sorry about this, but everyone who actually read this story and liked it...

**I'M DROPPING IT.**

You understand? Goodbye 'Murder Never Sleeps'. I don't want to deal with this story anymore, it suddenly ran out of plot and inspiration and is now up for adoption. So, if you're going to take up the mantel of this wonderfully odd story, then send me a PM and we'll make a deal. Well, more like this:

Person who wants to adopt story (How about PWWTAS for short?) Anyway:

PWWTAS: Hey, can I adopt your story 'Murder Never Sleeps'?

Me: Of course! Only on two conditions.

PWWTAS: What are they?

Me: Well, one you have to use good grammar. I actually want to read the story that you write taking this plot and see how that goes. Two, I definitely want you to write somewhere that you adopted this, though I honestly don't want the credit, I just want people to know that you adopted this story.

PWWTAS: That's it?

Me: That's it, and proto. PM me the link so I can read it.

And that's how it'll go if you do PM me, but now I don't have to explain the rules, so you can just ask nicely and I'll shove this onto your shoulders. Got it? Oh, and apologies to everyone. I know you must be pissed at me. This story would've probably gone somewhere if I hadn't been such a lazy person. Sorry, it's in my genes. I'm a Pisces after all, one of my flaws. Okay, so that's pretty much it. Goodbye.


	6. Adoption Closed

**Murder Never Sleeps has been adopted by Cartoon Cow. So, the adopting is now closed. It hasn't been written yet, since the author is grounded, but it'll be out soon. Thanks for reading this update!  
**


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